


Overflowing

by hamilsin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamilsin/pseuds/hamilsin
Summary: That day he knew he needed something. Something to make him feel alive again, something to make him feel whole. And if that something was a box of razors and a bloodied bathroom floor, who was he to retaliate?





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That day he knew he needed something. Something to make him feel alive again, something to make him feel whole. And if that something was a box of razors and a bloodied bathroom floor, who was he to retaliate?

" _Aw jeez_ ," The Scout almost whimpered, clutching his hand to his chest. By now, the blood had begun to pool from his wounds and spill down his torso. He didn't even notice it until he felt the sticky fluid pool at his feet. His hand ached from the repeated abuse, but it was nothing he couldn't hide behind neatly wrapped bandages. Bandages that no one questioned, coupled with secrets that no one knew. 

There was a disregarded knock at the door, and another that followed. 

"Jeez, can a man get a little privacy?" Scout yelled, his voice cracking from the pressure he was under. Whoever was outside seemed to have no intent of leaving the other alone, as another string of aggressive knocks followed. Then, the Scout heard a familiar voice.

"Roo," the Sniper's words were firm but contained a trace of concern, "You alright in there?" 

"Yeah, what's it to you?" The Scout retaliated quickly. He'd begun to notice the extent of his damages, gazing down at his bloodied hands and chest. He hadn't been careful this time, and it was evident in the sharp gashes that contrasted to white faded scars. Typically, he wouldn't have allowed himself into such a state, but that day he knew he needed _something_. Something to make him feel alive again, something to make him feel whole. And if that something was a box of razors and a bloodied bathroom floor, who was he to retaliate?

"Roo," the other paused briefly, "Scout." Hearing his own name caused him to momentarily snap out of his mindset. "You missed the battle, mate."

The Scout paused, wheels turning in his mind as he remembered the earlier events of that day. Basic facts became blurred memories as he failed to recall how exactly he's wound up in his situation. There was no possible way five minutes had become three hours. Then the one simple fact emerged, he'd managed to let his team down yet again.

His bloodied hand cupped itself over his mouth as chocked sobs poured from his throat. He was always the lousy member of the team, drudging behind as the others fought with all their might. He'd done all he could to contribute, and as per usual, his efforts remained utterly useless.

"Scout, I'm coming in." 

"Wait no-" In his mania, he realized he'd forgotten to lock the door. 

"What in the bloody hell-" Bloodied hands were exposed to his view, and the Scout's loud sobs rang in his ears. 

"I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry, I-I-I" The Scout began to panic, clutching his chest as his breathing fell out of rhythm and into a familiar state of mania.


	2. Chapter 2

Blinking his eyes open, the Scout awoke to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. He was no longer within the confines of the bathroom, but rather a more open space that his blurred vision could not yet decipher. A quiet conversation went on slightly out of ear's range, and in his current state he could only hear murmurs and traces of familiar words.

He considered the events of earlier to be fabricated memories as a result of his paranoia, and disregarded the possibility his teammates could ever find out his secret. Such a secret that he knew could devastate others, and endanger his position on the team. Thinking back on it, the sense of community the team gave him was one of the only things balancing out his mental health. Without that, he knew he would spiral into downfall. As his thoughts began to process, so did the Scout's vision and he realized he was in the base's medical bay.

"Huh?" His voice rasped, as he began to sit up on the cot. He then recognized that his hands was no longer bloody, but wrapped in neat bandages that weren't his own. Confusion raced through his mind, and the only possibility that remained was that the events of earlier could not have been fabrications.

"Herr Scout," the voice snapped him out of his thoughts and back into the present situation.

"Your injuries could have been fatal, exercise caution next time-"

"Next time, doc? This-this can't continue!"

"I'm only saying these things aren't resolved quickly. There will be relapses and he must be prepared to take the necessary precautions!" As usual, the two quickly became engrossed in argument, leaving Scout to process the situation by himself. He put his hand to his forehead and sat back down on the cot, struggling to remain calm, and desperately trying to remember any sort of advice from his old days in therapy. Nothing seemed of use. _Breathe calmly_ , impossible. _Think rationally_ , not going to happen. _Voice your feelings_ , how could he do that? All of these thoughts only seemed to worsen his condition as he lie still in panic.

 


End file.
